


The Glass Slipper

by juliabsquared



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe, Ballroom Dancing, Cinderella Elements, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Glass Slippers (Cinderella), Loss of Parent(s), Marriage Proposal, Olden Times, Parent Death, Royal Wedding, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weddings, Wicked Stepsisters, fairytale, wicked stepmother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 01:50:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21171437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliabsquared/pseuds/juliabsquared
Summary: “Cinderella never asked for a Prince. She asked for a night off, and a dress.” – Kiera CassThe love story of Hades & Persephone, retold as the classic fairy tale “Cinderella.”





	The Glass Slipper

**Author's Note:**

> Because I’ve had the sads lately and needed some high-level fluff with a guaranteed happy ending. Like, Disney-princess levels of fluff. This was the result.
> 
> I borrowed inspiration from a few different versions of the “Cinderella” fairy tale, most notably the Brothers Grimm version published in 1812, the 1933 short story by Arthur Rackham (as published in the _Illustrated Treasury of Childrens’ Literature_, 1955 edition), Walt Disney’s 1950 animated film, and the novel _Ella Enchanted_, by Gail Garson Levine (HarperTrophy, 1997).

_**Once upon a time**_ there lived a noble lord who, upon the passing of his wife, married the coldest and haughtiest woman in the entire kingdom. Her name was Hestia. The man’s only child, a girl by the name of Persephone, missed her mother terribly but made every effort to welcome Hestia into their home.

Persephone’s father did not belong to any of the centuries-old noble houses, but rather had made his fortune and earned his lordship as a merchant. And, being a merchant, he was often away on long journeys, sometimes for months at a time, which necessitated leaving his young daughter in the care of her stepmother.

Hestia had two daughters of her own, who were even more disagreeable than herself. While her stepsisters were doted upon, given silk gowns and carpeted rooms, and private tutoring in the fine arts as befitting noble ladies, Persephone was made to perform all of the household tasks. Her days were spent sweeping, scrubbing, cleaning the ashes from the fireplace, and the like. She was given the leftover scraps from their table, a straw pallet to sleep on, and several threadbare woolen dresses for a wardrobe. Before long, her stepmother had taken to calling her “Kore,” meaning simply  _ little girl _ , or  _ the maid. _ Still, Persephone never complained, for shortly before she passed, her mother had urged her to remain kind and good in the face of all adversity, and Persephone was determined to honor her mother’s final wish.

Several years passed and Persephone grew into a lovely young woman, while her stepsisters, though beautiful, grew even more shallow and cruel. One day, the manor where they lived was visited by a matchmaker who had been contracted to find suitable husbands for Hestia’s daughters. Her name was Aphrodite. Her task, it seemed, was to evaluate the sisters to determine what their finest qualities were, what kind of grooms they might attract, and how large their dowries might be.

Thetis, the elder, danced and recited poetry, but managed to stumble no less than six times between the two. Her younger sister Minthe played the harp, and although the music was in key, her singing voice was as thin as the strings she plucked. Finally, the smallest string broke, snapping across her fingers and cutting her performance short.

Aphrodite quizzed them both extensively on their knowledge of Greek and Latin (of which neither possessed much). She inspected their needlework and pointed out each mistake (Minthe had five while Thetis, only four). Finally, the matchmaker spoke privately with Hestia to discuss the girls’ prospects while they glared maliciously at one another.

They managed to stall their fighting until after Aphrodite had left. Gracious, proper ladies didn’t argue, and they certainly didn’t throw projectiles at one another, but Thetis and Minthe were far from being proper ladies and Hestia was desperate to conceal this fact. The moment Aphrodite had gone from the manor, Minthe turned on her sister.

“You!” she shouted angrily. “I know you meddled with my harp. You made that string break somehow! Admit it, you cannot stand that Lady Aphrodite prefers my talents over yours.”

“ _ You _ are only jealous because you know I’ll find a better husband than you will,” sniffed Thetis.

“Only because you dress like a harlot.” Minthe hurled her hairbrush at Thetis, but the elder girl moved to avoid being struck. The brush crashed into the looking-glass that hung on the wall behind her, causing it to fall to the floor and smash.

“Urghhh!” Minthe stomped off and Thetis followed her, leaving Persephone to clean up the shattered fragments of glass. She fetched a broom from the pantry and began sweeping. Persephone had not had anything so nice as a looking-glass in all her life. The attic room where she slept was bare as bones. As she swept up the pieces, Persephone slipped the largest one into the pocket of her apron.

When her task was done, she nervously approached Hestia with the question that had been weighing on her all day. “Stepmother,” she began. “Might I ask you, when my sisters have been married, will Lady Aphrodite find me a match as well?”

“Oh, we have a plan for you, Kore. Do not fret, child.” Hestia placed a cold hand on Persephone’s arm. “This is really the best opportunity for someone so…  _ unalluring  _ as yourself.”

She frowned. “What is?”

“I have spoken with your lord father, and he agrees,” said Hestia, “that trying to marry you off would be a waste of money. When the time comes you will be pledged to the Sisters of Eternal Maidenhood.”

“But–”

Hestia’s eyes flashed in anger. “You will hold your tongue when I’m speaking to you, you insolent girl. Now, have you finished the day’s washing?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Persephone said meekly.

“And swept the floors?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And polished all of the silver?”

“No, ma’am.” She shook her head.

“Get to it then,” ordered Hestia with a wave of her hand. “You’re dismissed.”

***

Sitting on the edge of the straw pallet in her attic room, Persephone took the broken mirror shard out of her apron pocket and examined it. Maybe it would not be so bad, she told herself. Perhaps the other maidens would be kind to her and call her by her proper name. Never had she given much thought to love or marriage, but now the entire course of her life was being decided for her.  _ If only Mama were here _ , she thought sorrowfully.  _ None of this would be happening _ . 

Hestia’s words rang in her ears.  _ Trying to marry you off would be a waste of money. This is really the best opportunity… _

Persephone had often thought herself beautiful, for she knew she resembled her lady mother, the most beautiful woman she had ever known. Still, it was difficult not to feel inadequate when viewed in comparison to her stepsisters. They were both slender and fair-skinned, with even complexions, and hair as smooth as silk – Thetis’s a golden blonde and Minthe’s a rich brunette.

Persephone regarded herself in the fragment of the looking-glass. She knew her figure was nothing to envy, what with her round hips and full breasts, and her decidedly unfeminine musculature thanks to her years of labor. Her deep olive skin was dusted with freckles from her time spent working outdoors. Her wild and curly black hair she was obliged to cover with a kerchief, and her dark eyes shone with sadness no matter how hard she tried to remain the good, kind girl her mother had known her to be.

Not knowing what else to do, Persephone curled up on her straw pallet and wept.

***

Several days later, Persephone was serving breakfast in the dining-room when she overheard a conversation between her stepsisters. Normally she disregarded Minthe and Thetis’s gossip, but as she poured their tea, the news of the day caught her attention. Persephone garnered from their conversation that a royal ball was being held in two weeks’ time, and everyone in the capital suspected that Queen Hera intended to use the event as an opportunity to select a bride for her eldest son, Prince Ares.

“ _ All _ of the noble houses in Olympia will be attending,” gushed Thetis.

“The extended royal family as well,” Minthe added. “I even heard that Prince Aidoneus will be there. If even  _ that _ wretched old man is invited, then this ball is sure to be the largest event of the season.”

Evidently, Aidoneus rarely attended these types of social gatherings. He was elder brother to King Zeus, and rumored to be a very cold and bitter man. It had caused quite a stir when, many years ago, King Cronus had named his younger son as heir to the throne, disregarding the customary line of succession.

Persephone didn’t know why he had done so, as Thetis and Minthe cared little for the politics of court. As such, their conversations were always limited to the current fashions and who was to be wife to whom.

Persephone was startled back to the present by a heated argument brewing between her stepsisters.

“When I am Queen, I’ll have you banished,” said Thetis in a haughty tone.

“Well, when _ I _ am Queen,” Minthe replied, “I’ll have you arrested and thrown in the dungeons!” 

“If I may,” Persephone interjected, “whichever of you becomes Queen can support the other, give her residence in the palace and arrange a favorable marriage to a young lord. Then you could both be granted your riches and your happiness.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Thetis snapped. “Besides, it is not your place to say such things.”

She lowered her gaze. “Apologies, sister,” she said humbly, then quickly left the dining-room to attend to the washing.

***

When the day of the royal ball arrived, Thetis and Minthe were even more unpleasant than usual, having scarcely eaten anything over the past week. It was an unspoken competition between them to see who would be slimmer, each girl desperate to capture the attention of Prince Ares.

After she had served breakfast, Persephone turned to Hestia and said, “Stepmother, I have a favor to ask of you.” When the woman did not answer, she continued, “I’ve finished the day’s washing, swept the floors, and polished the silver. If I finish the rest of my work early today, might I go to the ball this evening?”

Her stepmother remained silent for a moment, then the three of them burst into laughter. “Oh Kore,” said Minthe, “it is a shame Mother will not find you a husband. What you lack in beauty you make up for with your  _ wonderful _ sense of humor.” She and her sister cackled some more. 

“Of course you may not go to the ball, Kore. It’s no place for serving-girls,” said Hestia. “You will help your sisters prepare for the festivities, and if the rest of your chores have been completed by the time we depart, you may have the remainder of the evening to yourself, at home. Do you understand?”

Defeated, Persephone mumbled an incoherent response.

“What was that?” her stepmother asked sharply.

“Yes, ma’am,” she answered, and retreated to the kitchen hearth to eat her meager breakfast.

Later that evening, she watched Hestia, Thetis, and Minthe take their leave after having completed the tortuous process of preparing them for the ball. Persephone had been given a pail of cold water and a hard piece of soap with which to bathe herself (for none would allow her to touch them in her present state, all covered in ashes and soot). After that, she had fetched hot water for their baths, pressed their gowns, laced their corsets, and fixed their hair. She helped to dress them – Hestia in a demure peach-colored gown, Minthe in deep red satin, and Thetis in silver brocade trimmed with blue lace. Finally, they climbed into the waiting carriage and departed, leaving Persephone to wonder how a person could be so beautiful, yet harbor a heart that was so hideously ugly. 

When she was finally alone, she knelt by the hearth to coax some warmth from the dying embers. Before long, Persephone was sobbing.

Oh, how she wished she could go to the ball. To wear a fine gown, and see the palace from the inside, and sip ambrosia wine with the ladies of the court. There would be fine food, and dancing, and more splendor than Persephone had ever seen in her life.  _ Just for one night, _ she prayed.  _ Let me live as the other ladies do, as my mother believed I would.  _ At the thought of her mother, she began to cry anew, and found herself reciting a nursery rhyme her mother had taught her, many years ago.

_ “Goddess of Magic, Goddess of Night _

_ Heed my prayers as they take flight _

_ Grant my wishes with your Sight _

_ Before I wake at dawn’s first light.” _

A cold wind howled through the manor, extinguishing all of the lamps, and the tiny hairs on Persephone’s neck and arms stood on end. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized with a start that a woman was standing at the hearth. Her wild hair and robes were pitch black, but her skin was so pale it seemed to glow in the moonlight that streamed through the window.

“My dear Persephone, why are you crying?” the woman murmured. Her voice was deep and soothing.

“H-how is it that you know my name, my lady?” Persephone asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Why you called for me, did you not?” the lady replied. “I am Hecate, the Goddess of Magic, godmother to souls such as yourself. I will see that you attend this royal ball of yours.”

“You will?” Persephone could hardly believe it.

Hecate smiled. “Yes, my child. Now be a darling and fetch me the biggest pumpkin you can find.” Persephone obliged, running outside to the garden. When she returned with the pumpkin, the Goddess had summoned twelve nightingales, which perched upon her outstretched arms, six on either side. “Now then. Go wash up while I perform my magic, and meet me outside when you are finished.

Persephone did as she was told. She ran upstairs to the tiny washroom in her attic and splashed cold water from the basin all over her face and hands, then flew downstairs and outside, to the front drive of the manor. When she saw what awaited her there, she gasped.

The pumpkin had grown and become a bright golden carriage, while the nightingales had been made into horses and coachmen. “Ah, but you cannot very well attend a ball dressed like that, can you?” her Godmother asked, then passed a pale hand over Persephone’s head.

At once, her woolen servant’s dress transformed, growing longer and fuller and softer until it became the most beautiful ball gown Persephone had ever seen. Pink as a summer flower, it seemed to almost float with her as she walked. Her dark hair was pinned in a fashionable updo, held in place by a comb affixed with sparkling jewels.

“One last thing,” the Goddess of Magic added. From the folds of her robes she produced a pair of shimmering glass slippers, which Persephone stepped into. They fit her perfectly. “Now remember,” Hecate told the girl, “This magic only lasts throughout the evening. At the stroke of midnight, your carriage will transform back into a pumpkin, your horses and footmen will become songbirds again, and you will once more be dressed as a serving-girl.”

Persephone nodded. “Yes, Godmother.”

“Now, off with you!” One of the coachmen helped Persephone into the carriage. She turned back to thank Hecate for her kindness, and found that the Goddess was gone.

***

The palace was even grander than Persephone had imagined. Her carriage was ushered past the gates and she marveled, wide-eyed, at the splendor around her. Noble lords and ladies decked in their finery streamed up the gleaming marble steps towards the entrance. Inside, the massive halls were also made of polished marble, lit with golden torches and hung with elaborate tapestries.

And the ballroom! It was the grandest of all. Crystal chandeliers, gilded walls, potted trees and tropical plants, murals across the ceiling depicting the history of the Kingdom of Olympia... Persephone’s head spun as she tried to take it all in. Music wafted through the air, an elegant aural backdrop to the decadent scene. 

She followed the other courtiers to where the royal family stood, receiving their guests. All eyes were fixed upon Prince Ares, for whom the ball was being held. He had recently returned from a military campaign in the east, and proudly displayed his medals and honors, which gleamed gold against his bright red dress uniform. Persephone curtsied as low as she could when she passed before him, and swore he gave her a flirtatious wink when she did so.

Persephone moved gracefully through the line to pay her respects, stopping before the King and Queen. She gave a sweeping curtsy, and couldn’t help but notice that Queen Hera’s ball gown was cut exactly the same as her own, only glimmering gold instead of pink. King Zeus wore military dress like his son, although in his case it was a striking purple as befitting the King.

“I thank you for your generous hospitality, Your Grace,” said Persephone.

“You are very welcome, little flower,” Queen Hera told her with a warm smile. “Please enjoy yourself this evening.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” She curtsied again, and made her way into the crowd to do exactly that.

Never had Persephone seen so much food in one place – stuffed pheasant, lamb with roasted potatoes, buttered turnips, apples baked in goat cheese, lemon cakes, and even some strange vegetable resembling a thistle (“artichokes,” they were called). She knew she ought not to eat so much rich food but could not help herself; the scents alone caused her mouth to water. So she ate her fill and drank down the wine that was offered to her, relishing the sultry taste.

After dinner came the dancing. Persephone had never danced before in her life, but found it to be as natural as breathing. Around the ballroom she twirled, until finally her feet grew weary and she sought rest on an upstairs balcony, where she could easily observe the festivities going on below. 

Before long, Persephone was joined on the balcony by a stranger, a tall gentleman dressed in deep midnight blue. “You know, it isn’t proper for a lady to be left all alone at a ball,” he said. “Would you like some company?”

Persephone surveyed the man for a moment before answering. He was handsome, with kind eyes (the same color as his suit, she could not help but notice), and dimples at the corners of his mouth when he smiled. “I would,” she answered.

He moved closer to her so they could converse, while still maintaining a respectable distance. “What may I call you, my lady?”

“My name is Persephone,” she said with all the air of nobility she could muster. 

“Persephone,” he repeated, as if testing out how the name felt on his tongue. “I am honored to meet you, Lady Persephone.” He took her hand in his own, leaned down and kissed it softly. 

“You know, a true gentleman really ought to introduce himself when he meets a lady,” Persephone told the stranger, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Lest he be thought a scoundrel.”

“Lady Persephone, I assure you I am nothing of the sort,” he replied, returning her playful smile. “My name is Hades.”

She curtsied. “Then I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Hades.”

“Had I known I would meet such a lady as yourself, I would have come better prepared.” Hades reached behind her and plucked a flower from the potted shrub at her back, then offered it to her. “As it is, I hope you will find this favor acceptable.”

“It is sufficient,” she pronounced with a smile, then examined the flower by holding it delicately between two fingers. “A pomelia. They don’t normally grow in this region. Of course, within a controlled environment such as the palace, I am sure they could thrive given a warm enough climate.”

“You have much knowledge of flowers, my lady. Are you a gardener?”

Persephone enjoyed spending time outside in the garden, even when she was given hard work, but she was unsure how to explain this without revealing her true station. “Horticulture is… one of my interests, yes,” she finally said.

“There are plenty of them at my estate,” Hades offered.

“Oh? And where is it that you live, my lord?”

“I live in the countryside, down in the south, not far from the seaside.” He smiled fondly just thinking about it. “It isn’t very large, and not nearly as well-appointed as this place,” he continued, “but it is my home.”

“It sounds wonderful,” she told him. “Do you come to the capital often, then?”

“Not if it can be avoided,” he admitted. “I don’t have much interest in commerce or politics, which leaves little else for me here. And I have known the royal family for a long time, yet rarely do I feel entirely welcome at their gatherings.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” she said, and she was. Persephone knew all too well how it felt to be made an outsider. “Although, I am not sure that you are missing much companionship, when King Zeus spends the entire evening behaving like a drunken fool.” As soon as she said the words, she longed to take them back. All her life she had held her tongue when she ought to, but at this moment that particular skill eluded her. 

But far from recoiling at her inappropriate candor, Hades laughed heartily. “Lady Persephone, you certainly do not mince your words.” Still chuckling, he wiped a tear from his eye. “Pray, what are your thoughts on the rest of the royal family?”

“Well.” Persephone has not expected the conversation to turn like this, but he seemed pleased by her honesty so she continued. “Queen Hera seems lovely, although I do not know if the reason is Her Grace has overindulged in wine as well.”

“And Prince Ares?”

Persephone tilted her head to one side and observed the prince in the ballroom below. “I suppose he possesses a certain roguish charm that many ladies happen to find agreeable.”

“And what of Prince Aidoneus?” he asked, his voice growing quiet.

“I’ve never seen him before,” she mused. “Everyone says he’s quite grim, always trailing alone after the rest of the royal family, eyes downcast, never smiling.”

“But you don’t agree?” Hades’s brows furrowed, as if he were intent on hearing her thoughts.

“I am not sure,” Persephone replied. It felt strange, she thought, for someone to ask her opinion on such matters. Strange but pleasant. “It sounds to me as if perhaps he’s just a bit sad. But I would imagine him to be rather handsome, in a melancholy sort of way.” She blushed, quickly remembering her manners. “Although not nearly as handsome as you, my lord,” she added.

Hades didn’t seem to take any offense. In fact, he smiled. “My lady, I cannot help but feel that you are a very singular woman.” At her confused expression, he continued, “I mean to say, I do not believe there is another quite like you in all of Olympia.”

“No, I do not suppose there is.” She looked down at the floor, suddenly conscious of the fact that here, in the palace, she was little more than a scullery maid playing dress-up.

Hades was the first to break the silence. “Lady Persephone,” he asked her, holding out a white-gloved hand, “will you dance with me?”

Persephone broke into a smile. “I would be glad to.” She took his hand and they danced, right there on the balcony, moving gracefully in time with the music. As the waltz continued, she gradually closed her eyes and lost herself in the moment, feeling his firm hand on her waist and the velvet of his suit against her cheek as she leaned into him. Persephone breathed him in and he smelled of woodsmoke, but also of something sharp, and clean, and cold. She couldn’t quite place the scent, but found it comforting.

The song came to an end but neither wanted to step away. Persephone stood still, worried that the slightest movement might disrupt this lovely scene and burst the fragile bubble of happiness that had started to swell in her chest. 

After a while Hades spoke. “I never imagined,” he said softly, “that in coming here tonight I would meet the brightest, most beautiful lady in the whole realm. I sincerely thank you for the time you have spent with me this evening.”

She blushed again. “You are too kind,” she replied.

“Nonsense, my lady,” he murmured. A few strands of dark hair had come loose around her face, and he tenderly tucked them back behind her ear. “If it’s all right, I… I would very much like to kiss you right now.”

Persephone gazed up into Hades’s eyes. It had been a very long time since anyone had looked at her like this, as if she were more than just a scullery maid. She placed a delicate hand on his cheek and he leaned down, close enough that their noses brushed one another, close enough that her eyelashes fluttered against his skin, close enough that their lips were almost touching–

_ Brrrrong _ .

“Oh, sugar snaps!” Persephone pulled away abruptly when she heard the bell toll. It was midnight.

_ Brrrrong _ .  _ Brrrrong _ .

She turned and fled, hurrying down the stairs to the main floor, weaving through the crowded ballroom. 

_ Brrrrong _ .  _ Brrrrong _ .

“Please, my lady, wait!” She heard Hades call after her but didn’t dare turn around.

_ Brrrrong _ .  _ Brrrrong _ .

Outside, into the cool night air.

_ Brrrrong _ .  _ Brrrrong _ .

Down the marble steps in front of the palace.

_ Brrrrong _ .  _ Brrrrong _ .

She was vaguely aware that she had lost a shoe.

_ Brrrrong _ .

Rather than hobble along, she removed her remaining slipper and grasped it tightly as she ran, barefoot, through the dark city streets. Her ball gown had once again become a servant’s rags, which at least helped to camouflage her as she darted through the alleyways. A passing horse-drawn cart gave her a moment’s respite when she was able to climb onto the back undetected. She rode on the cart for awhile, catching her breath, before she jumped and took off running again, and didn’t stop until she reached the manor.

***

When Persephone awoke the next morning, for a moment she thought it had all been a dream. But no, the single glass slipper that lay beside her pallet confirmed everything. The gown, the dancing, the food and wine, meeting the King and Queen… it had all happened. Not wanting her stepmother or stepsisters to discover her treasure, Persephone slipped the glass shoe into the pocket of her apron. Better to carry it with her than leave it exposed in the attic.

She served breakfast and completed her chores while feeling as if she were floating on air. Even Hestia’s foul mood (for the woman was nursing a painful headache after consuming excess wine at the ball) did not dampen her spirits. Each time a sharp word was said to her, Persephone softened it with thoughts of the handsome gentleman she had met, Lord Hades.

While Persephone paid no attention to the conversations of her stepsisters, the royal gossip continued as usual. Although a consort for Prince Ares had not yet been named, apparently more than one noble lady was sought by the royal family. The King’s reclusive brother, Prince Aidoneus, claimed to have fallen in love with a mysterious woman he had met at the ball, and a royal decree had been made that no resources would be spared in order to find her. Thetis and Minthe laughed at the prospect of this.

“What respectable lady would want to marry a disgraced brother of the King?” said Thetis.

Minthe replied, “She very well may have gone into hiding to avoid just that.” They laughed some more.

On the fourth day after the ball, Persephone’s joyful mood started to wane. Minthe and Thetis were once again behaving sourly, for it had been announced that Prince Ares intended to marry a young lady from one of the great northern houses. As it appeared neither of them would ever become Queen and have the power to imprison the other in the palace dungeons, they resumed their usual practice of tormenting one another as well as Persephone. The morning began with an argument between the sisters, which culminated in Thetis throwing her boiled eggs at Minthe, and Persephone being obliged to clean the mess. 

That afternoon, Hestia, Thetis, and Minthe were to take tea in the parlor. Persephone prepared the tray of tea and accompaniments, then removed her apron and hung it upon the nail next to the hearth. Hestia would reprimand her if Persephone wore it while serving food and drink. She brought the tray into the parlor and Hestia called to her daughters. It was several minutes before they entered. Thetis was still scowling, but Minthe wore a self-righteous leer. Persephone quickly learned why.

“What is this?” Minthe sneered, and held up something that sparkled as it caught the light.

Persephone’s heart nearly stopped. It was her glass slipper, the sole remaining tangible link she had to that beautiful, perfect night. She had left it in the pocket of her apron in the kitchen, where Minthe had apparently taken to snooping. “Please, Minthe,” she begged. “Please don’t–”

“Don’t what?” Minthe regarded her with hateful eyes.

“Please give it back. It’s my– it was my mother’s,” Persephone lied. “I promised her I would treasure it always.”

“Well we cannot have that now, can we?” said the wretched girl, and dashed the little glass shoe onto the floor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. Persephone sank to her knees and let out a choked sob.

Hestia regarded the whole spectacle with an air of casual indifference. “Minthe, that is quite enough,” she said finally. “Kore has work to do and does not need you to distract her.” Then she pointed to the mess of broken glass scattered across the floor of the parlor. “Clean it up,” she ordered Persephone.

_ I will not answer wickedness with wickedness _ , Persephone told herself as she went to fetch the broom and dustpan _ . I must not. _ Even as she thought this, several tears rolled down her cheeks.

As soon as she knelt down to sweep away the broken glass, there was a knock on the door. A man (a coachman perhaps?) was ushered into the parlor.

Out of the corner of her eye, Persephone stole a glance at the man and saw he wore the purple-and-gold livery of the royal household. He appeared to be a messenger of some sort.

“Kind sir, may I ask what is the meaning of this intrusion?” asked Hestia, affecting the pleasant voice that she reserved for strangers and those of high social standing.

“I bring a proclamation from the King himself,” the herald answered. “To Lady Hestia, her daughters, and any other young ladies residing in this household.”

Another pair of footsteps entered the parlor, and the three women gasped. “Your Highness,” Hestia exclaimed, and Persephone heard the rustling of silk skirts as they curtsied in unison. She also stood up and curtsied, keeping her eyes on the floor so as not to draw undue attention to herself.

“I seek a noble lady by the name of Persephone, who attended the royal ball Saturday last,” said a different man’s voice. Persephone stopped what she was doing and listened. She  _ knew _ that voice, she had heard it before. _ At the ball, _ she realized. It was Hades.

But wait. Why was he searching for her, and why did Hestia refer to him as “Highness”? Persephone’s eyes went wide and she stifled a gasp.  _ Could it be? _ Was the handsome lord she danced with at the ball actually the king’s brother?

“My sincerest apologies, Your Highness, but there is no one here by that name,” Hestia told him. “It would be a shame to cause you to prolong your quest unnecessarily.”

“The Lady Persephone also left this behind,” Prince Aidoneus added, and Persephone could hear one of her stepsisters give a shocked gasp. No longer was there any doubt that  _ she _ was the lady whom the king’s brother sought. “I intend to locate the owner of this slipper and bring her with me to the palace.”

“ _ I _ am the wearer of this shoe, and I will prove it,” declared Thetis. She sat down on the nearest chair and both Hestia and Minthe held their breath as Aidoneus knelt before her and tried to slip the shoe onto her foot.

“That will never fit you, sister, your feet are  _ much _ too large,” Minthe said loudly, and pushed Thetis out of the way. “I will prove  _ I _ am the wearer of the glass slipper.” But the shoe did not fit her either, it seemed.

“And there are no other ladies in your household?” Prince Aidoneus asked. It was then that he noticed Persephone crouched in the corner, sweeping. “You there, young lady. Come over here, please.”

“Oh, that’s just Kore, the scullery wench,” said Thetis quickly. “She is hardly what one would call a  _ lady _ .”

“All the same, she will try the shoe to see if it fits,” the prince replied, then spoke once more to Persephone. “Come here, miss.”

Persephone turned and slowly approached him, keeping her eyes down. She wished she were invisible, or that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing her like this, covered in cinders and dressed in a servant’s rags.

“Please,” he said softly, “allow me to look upon your face.” He cupped her chin with one hand and slowly Persephone lifted her gaze to his, steeling herself for the bitter contempt she was sure to find there.

But there was none. He looked at her as lovingly as he had done on the night of the ball, as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. “It’s you,” he whispered.

She nodded solemnly. “Yes, my lord– Your Highness,” she corrected herself, not knowing what else to say. Her heart pounded in her chest. He was just as handsome as she remembered, perhaps even more so. She felt trapped in his gaze, and never wanted to be released.

Prince Aidoneus knelt before her, offering the single glass slipper. “My lady, I believe this belongs to you.”

She lifted the hem of her woolen skirt, and he slipped the shoe onto her foot. A perfect fit. “I… I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” said Persephone, “but I am afraid I cannot wear this slipper. You see, its partner was destroyed only a moment before you arrived here.” She was vaguely aware of the lovestruck smile on her face, but could not bring herself to mask her emotions.

Her prince returned the smile in kind, “As you wish,” he said. “Although perhaps I could replace it for you. I must ask, will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the royal palace, and allowing me to make you my wife?”

Persephone was still holding the broom and dustpan, she realized. Not taking her eyes off Aidoneus, she thrust them both into the hands of the nearest stepsister. Minthe took them, dumbstruck. “Yes,” Persephone said breathlessly, “I will.”

“You can’t have her!” Hestia cried. Aware that she would no longer have a maid to keep house for her, and bear the brunt of all her ill-tempered whims, she affected a sweet voice and continued, “I won’t give away my beloved stepdaughter. Isn’t that so, dear girl?”

Aidoneus was not swayed by Hestia’s false kindness. “That is not your decision to make, only Lady Persephone’s,” he told her. “And I believe she has already given her answer.”

“There will be no dowry paid for her, you can be sure of that!” Hestia snarled, abandoning all pretense of caring.

“I have no need of your gold, woman,” Aidoneus said coldly. All the warmth returned to his voice, however, when he looked back to Persephone. “Besides, what is gold when compared to the greatest treasure in this or any other kingdom?” He offered his arm, ready to escort her back to his waiting carriage. “Shall we go, my love?”

“Of course, my prince,” Persephone answered happily. She started to follow him, then paused. A proper lady ought to remain courteous always, she told herself, and embraced both of her stepsisters. “Farewell, sisters,” she told them. Minthe and Thetis stood in shocked, wide-eyed silence as Persephone gave them each a polite kiss on either cheek. “Stepmother,” she said cordially, bending low in a stiff curtsy. Hestia did not respond.

Persephone took the arm of her beloved, and they departed. Despite her ragged dress and kerchief, Aidoneus showed no sign of shame or embarrassment as he escorted her. He gave her his cloak to wear so as to guard against the chill in the air and helped her into the carriage. Persephone stood tall and proud, for she knew herself to be a lady of gracious character and a strong spirit. 

***

Preparations were made for a royal wedding, which took place two weeks later. Aidoneus hardly left her side during that time, and they both found themselves falling even more deeply in love with each passing day.

It was quickly arranged for Thetis and Minthe to marry a pair of lesser noblemen… in a kingdom far,  _ far _ away from Olympia. Persephone’s father and stepmother were paid a fair sum of money by the crown in exchange for their estate (not that they were given much say in the matter). The manor where Persephone had grown up was quickly converted into an orphanage, where less fortunate children would always have warm clothes, and beds to sleep in, and enough to eat, as well as tutors who would educate them properly.

As for Persephone, she moved to the countryside with her adoring husband, and never had to sweep or scrub anything ever again (for their estate had a whole staff of servants, whom Persephone ensured were always paid fairly and treated well). At last her life was one of comfort, gratitude, and most importantly of all, love.

And so they lived happily ever after. 

_ **The End** _


End file.
